See you on the other side
by pandanare
Summary: After a devastating diagnosis, single parent Vegeta struggles to keep any semblance of normalcy he can while coming to terms with an ending life. With two teenage daughters in tow, he attempts to navigate the emotional and physical ups and downs of a seemingly terminal illness. When a new face in the neighborhood attempts to befriend him, something unexpected happens.
1. So it begins

**Hey guys! Back again! So I'm going to try something completely different and actually write the things in my head instead of just letting them roll around into nothing XD**

 **I had this idea for a while but just randomly got into a writing frenzy and well..here I am. Of course, I don't own any of the characters or any affiliate to the dragon ball works or fandom. I really hope you guys enjoy this story!**

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His deft fingers carefully inspected the polycarbonate 'clicker' in his hand, trying desperately to find any fault or imperfection Anything to give him a reason to hate it. That was the least it could do; let him loathe its well engineered design simply because it _existed._ Sure it had a purpose, it reserved energy that would've otherwise been wasted getting up to change the channel. Here shortly, he'd need all the energy he could get. Ergo, its existence was founded.  
How does one define existence anyway? Is it something internal? Do we only exist because others are around us? What if we were alone, the last of our kind? Would existence be a thing? Without anything to compare it to, would it retain it's worth?

"Probably would depreciate in value.." he mumbled to himself before stamping out such thankless thoughts. "Tch.." He tossed the device on the end of the couch rethinking his stance on purchasing quality stuff because it lasts longer.

He wondered if this is what chemo brain would be like. Like flipping a switch between ideas. Perfectly coherent thoughts but no fluidity between them. It was maddening. Was there some merit to this 'Kharma' bull shit that was making a comeback with the influx of new age hippies? If so, what was catching up with him?

Nothing in particular stood out. He'd never killed anyone, stolen anything, hell he'd never even gotten a speeding ticket. Maybe it was his slightly more rebellious years? Not that those were any different than the average teenager. Smoking in high school, under age drinking, premarital sex; all seemed pretty run of the mill to him.

The longer he thought, the less inclined he was to actually give up some of those memories for a few more years on the planet, especially the sex. The thought seemed so tragic though, give up life for a few rounds between the sheets? It mattered not; when he got up and walked into the kitchen, he knew whether he sacrificed those trips down memory lane or not, he was damned either way. Caught himself in a loophole with only a self fulfilling prophecy staring back at him. His daughter.

He definitely wouldn't give up the sex.

"What's going on in here? You two bitches can't cook." He playfully slapped the bottom of her hand, knocking the spatula out of it so he could grab it.

"DAAAAAD! We were trying to surprise you!" The blue haired girl huffed, pouring box of pasta into a boiling pot on the stove. "Now give that back and go sit down!"

He grimaced at the memory of her last attempt to 'surprise him'. "Bra, I really don't feel like getting heartburn for a week again." She flushed at the thought of last time she tried cooking but found a little footing with the fact that school started up again.

"I'm in home economics now dad, _and_ a Junior, Puh-lease." She flipped her hair in his face and grabbed the spatula from him. "Besides, Pan's making the sauce. I only have to worry about the pasta and bread."

He walked over to a crockpot on the counter and lifted the lid, surprised by the pleasing aroma of herbs, tomatoes and something he couldn't place. It smelled familiar, but he just couldn't pin it down. Something he knew before but would have no chance of remembering in a few months due to all the chemicals that would be pumping through his veins. Was that even the treatment route he was going down? He truthfully couldn't remember. There were so many brochure's and so many diagrams. Would he lose his hair? OH GOD! Would he lose his hair?!

He dropped the lid against counter with a clank and fixed his eyes on the floor, somewhat lost in thought. The switch had been flipped again. He couldn't help but think that was just how it was going to be from now on. Interloping thoughts vying for his attention. Provocative displays of pleasant thoughts competing valiantly with beautiful shipwrecks of a self-terminating reality. What a god damn shame.

"Move it or lose it old man." Pan bumped him with her hip to scoot him away from the simmering liquid. "I've got mouths to feed and you've got bills to pay." She winked at him. "By bills to pay I mean the carnival is only in town for two more nights and I want to see the fireworks tonight." She kept her eyes focused on the pot in front of her, clinging to the existential thought that if she didn't look, the furrowed brow wasn't really there. Smirks could go either way, but furrowed brows always meant one of three things: hell no, fuck no or bitch please.

An exaggerated breath silenced the room as both girl stopped stirring their provisions and waited for the potentates answer. As if he was stupid. She didn't give a hell about seeing fireworks. No, no she wanted to see that little gremlin that was in her third period Math class. The one with the 'great hair' and 'totally rad kicks'. Funny, he'd always thought Bra would be the one who was boy crazy, taking after her mother of course, but the last few (painstaking) years, Pan seemed to have a new 'interest' every other week.

"Try again Pan."

"What?" Bra went back to stirring her mushy, overdone pasta, with a grin on her face.

"You hate loud noises. If you're going to lie, at least make it good." Vegeta raised one eyebrow and waited for her rebuttal.

"Okay...?" She let out the same exaggerated breath she learned from her dad before giving in to the fact that parents always know when you're lying.

"Okay, you got me. Cheese n Crackers, dad! Ugh..So there's this boy in my class and I told him I might see him there. He's really cool and really funny and it would be way lame of me if I didn't show up after committing myself to something so-". A hand in her face silenced her and she scrunched her features.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. What do kids know about commitments anyway? Indubitably nothing. Not like him. He had **one** commitment. Just **one** and now he wasn't even going to be around to uphold it.

He'd have to remember to disconnect that switch.

"Well Pan, I think it would be _way lame_ of you to starve me before your little 'date' tonight.."

"Really?!" She squealed and attempted to jump him for the biggest hug since her last date, accidentally knocking the sauce all over the counter. "Oops.."

"Okay, I changed my mind."

"DAAAAAD!"

He rolled his eyes " Fine, order some pizza or something. Though maybe if I quit feeding you guys, y'all would quit coming around." The elusive, as of late, smirk returned.

Both girls were kind not to say anything about its missing whereabouts since his last round of blood tests. Or maybe they were just putting up a front. Maybe he was raising them to be too much like him. Or maybe it was..No. He stanched the word 'denial' as soon as the first three letters appeared in his brain. There was no hiding from the inevitable. _Life would go on whether he faced it or not._ That's what he kept telling himself. He was yet to determine if it made him feel better.

Bra tapped her index finger to her chin, deciding how to spend her night. Of course she could get a date if she wanted to, but figured her dad could use the company. Maybe he should go on a date instead. She giggled to herself at the thought of her dad kissing but then completely discarded the idea when she thought about what kissing lead to. "Ugh, gack."

"What? Did you try some of your soggy noodle membrane?" he said to his bright-eyed daughter. "Because personally I-"

"Cram it dad! Now put on a damn movie and get me some ham and pineapple."

Raising them to be too much like him indeed. "Why are all the women in this house so MEAN!" he yelled to anyone as he walked back to the den. A little smile formed on his face when he heard his daughter's laughing at his insult. Then and there he decided he wasn't giving it up.

Pan peeked her head through the doorway as he was browsing for a pizza place on his phone."Oh and dad, the doctor called. He needs to see you tomorrow. Also, can you go to the store later? I need some tampons."

Or maybe he'd get lucky and just die in his sleep.

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So what do you guys think? Sorry it's a bit short. Just laying the base right now. Also, I should've prefaced this by saying I'm not making light of long term or terminal illness in any way. I actually have a lot of insight to it and most of my ideas come from various conversations or observations I've made about people still maintaining normal lives even after unfortunate circumstances. If anything, I admire them and their zest for life, I'm just really a sucker for tragic stories! I can't say how often this will be updated as I'm still working with TWEW to get a new chapter of that up too. Happy readings guys!


	2. Last Ride

He carefully scrutinized the young clerk's milky face as she nonchalantly scanned two boxes across the scale. It was a empowering feeling knowing the choice to drive to the _next_ closest pharmacy resulted in zero snickers or fragmented glances at the 'products' he was purchasing. Teenage girls seemed so much less impaired when it came to dealing with procurements of the unmentionable variety. Although he did remind himself to bring cash next time since the new chip readers made transactions seem that much slower. Slow enough to consider it was time they started driving themselves to get stuff like this... with their own car.

The prospect seemed like that of a nightmare, as it would for any parent but if it would stop Bra from proudly exclaiming her age one more time, maybe it would be worth it. As if he didn't know how old she was, how old _he_ was. He pushed past the thought and inserted the key into the ignition, telling himself this was the last time.

Vegeta sat in his driveway and checked a few emails from behind a can of flavored seltzer water. A few from the v.p. of one of his subsidiaries and a few that were nothing more than spam adds for clearer skin and erectile disfunction. _Figures_. It didn't matter how many times he hit unsubscribe, they just kept popping up in his in box. He swirled the can around and tilted his head back, popping an allergy pill into his mouth before taking another swig. The last one before the now flat, almost salty water made contact with his driveway.

Bra was exactly where he left her, ensconced in a fort of greasy boxes on the couch. Vegeta took once step forward and a small bout of nausea hit him for a few seconds. He shook it off, chocking it up to the disgusting amount of oil slagged onto the box and slung his body onto the other end of the couch. He tossed the bag at her demanding she "do something with those."

She dropped in onto the floor casually and suggested a movie. He merely grunted in approval, waiting for her to queue up something.

"Well how about this one? It's called Homeward Bound."

"Seen it." he managed through a stifled yawn.

"Well Dad! What haven't you seen?! That was the sixth one I suggested!" She threw her hands up dramatically.

He grinned amusingly at her frustration before telling her just to pick whatever she wanted to watch. It was probably a mistake but getting her riled up was one of the more entertaining parts of his day usually.

The fan blades he'd been steadily watching lulled him into a content daze somewhere between a long past memory and possibly the First Circle of hell? Warmth seemed to be radiating from somewhere and the stark contrast to his cool detachment must've manifested a thought that was determined to make its presence known. That is until a muffled profanity from the other end of the couch pulled Vegeta out of his trance. His eye twitched a single time as he felt the weightlessness leaving him, forcing his psyche back into real time. He slowly rolled his head along the cushioned frame and snorted at the sea of pillows and pizza boxes surrounding a small dome of blue. Her eyes never left the TV and he could tell she was enthralled in something the way she would chew one time, stop, and chew again. His own attention turned to the screen trying to fill in the blanks of what was happening.

A man was on trial, from what he garnered, for the murder of his wife. Amazingly, it looked like all of their kids were standing behind him, supporting him, convinced of his innocence. A wormy looking man was taking the stand and was being asked about scene recreation and his opinion of what took place that night. It was painfully obvious the SBI agent had already made up his mind about the defendant and was trying to manipulate the experiments and produce an end result that fit nicely into his unproven theory. Vegeta scoffed at the testimony but not at all surprised by the lack merit in the legal system. Something he never cared for himself. _Poor fuck is going to go to jail either way_ he thought right before the screen went black.

"HEY! I was watching that!"

Vegeta dropped the remote on the couch and shrugged indifferently. "It's Friday night, what are you doing here anyway?"

Admittedly, he was a little surprised Bra was still home, especially on the weekend. A little more freedom for them meant a lot more headache for him and Bra was never one to let her dad off easy. Of course, he took advantage of his parental rights and turned on their phone locators unbeknownst to them. But so far, they had earned his trust and so he left them to their own devices...mostly. It's never cut and dry when you're a single parent to two teenage daughters, but fortunately their tempers seemed to drive boys away faster than he had to.

"Just didn't have anything else to do really." She turned away from him and started twirling her hair around her finger.

"What did I just tell Pan about at least lying good? And don't lie to me."

"Dad..Why did the doctor need to see you again? If he's seeing you on a Saturday it must be important right?".

There it was. She felt guilty.. or scared.. or some other emotion that didn't normally fit into her repertoire. That's why she was home with him on a Friday. Vegeta was never one to keep the truth from his kids but he did tend to leave out pertinent information until all his questions were answered satisfactorily. But he wan't sure why he was seeing him again. Possibly because last time he rushed out so quickly only snippets of what the doctor had said stuck with him. He felt as though he was on autopilot through the whole conversation and ending it early was the only way to break free from the reality that life was suddenly being written backwards for him. His mistake was searching for his own answers online. How many times did he tell his kids not to do that and now here he was finding out that according to the internet he had an STD as well. Though it was unlikely unless it remains dormant until hell freezes over.

"His office is at the hospital. I'm sure he works whenever he wants to" he said, sidestepping the real question.

"Yeah but remember when I broke my arm and we had to go to the hospital? He wasn't there when we-"

"I've been seeing a different doctor." He cut her off but struggled to not let too much emotion seep into his voice. The last thing he needed was try to explain what was going on when he wasn't exactly privy to all the details himself. The girls knew as much as they needed to right now; as much as _he_ needed them to. Hoping she would drop it, he stood up to walk into the kitchen. She blocked his path and stepped in front of him each time he moved from one side to the next. With his patience running thin, he finally grabbed both her arms and gently moved her out of the way. He left her with her head hanging down but he knew at this point it was more likely that steam was coming out of her ears.

As he anticipated, she followed him into the kitchen and slammed a glass down on the counter, yanking the orange juice out of his hands. She never poured it, just gripped the bottle tighter until the tips of her fingers turned white. Friday night was not turning out like he expected at all. Here it was barely 9 o' clock and he managed to upset/piss off one daughter while the other was out gallivanting around, unsupervised, with some boy in her math class or whatever. Unconvinced of the bottles structural integrity, he decided to take control of the situation and do the only thing he assumed a parent should do. Vegeta yanked the bottle from her hands and hugged her. It was a rare occurrence for him to show such outward affection, but he really didn't know what other options he had available.

She buried her face into his chest and after some time he could hear some muffled words coming from her.

"What?" One arm let go of her but she continued to hold on. He moved the glass closer towards him and began to pour, leaving one hand on her back for support. When she fully disengaged from him, he downed his drink and leaned against the sink, waiting on her countenance.

She had asked about the bruising on his arm, but already knew it was from another round of bloodwork. If only she heard it from him, that it turned out to be nothing, then maybe she could be out with her friends, enjoying her favorite time of year. But she knew her father well enough to know something more than what he alluded to was going on and whatever vague answer he decided to give wouldn't sate her concerns. She let it go for another day and concluded she really just wanted to spend some time with her family. It was just an added benefit that she deemed her fall clothes her "cutest" one and she'd been wanting to show them off anyway.

"I said, let's go see what Pan's doing. It's not too far, we can just walk."

Vegeta dismissed the idea initially, calling her out for wanting to spy on her sister and making it look like he didn't care. Secretly though, he'd been thinking of ways to sneak down there and check on her anyway. If their little spying game didn't work and they got caught, he could blame it on Bra, insisting he had no interest and was forced against his will. If it did work, well then he could get them caught anyway and still blame it on her. Win-Win.

"Let me just go shower first." he huffed facetiously, intentionally acting like he was giving in to something he really did not want to do.

0-0-0-0-0

He wiped the fog from the mirror, letting the droplets of moisture coat his fingers. Staring at himself, he shifted his stance here and there, catching glimpses of every part of his body. Everything looked the same as it always did and for the most part, he felt the same. His face still looked good. _He_ still looked. Maybe he was even a little taller. But he couldn't hold on to it for long. Something, some thing that the doctor said kept replaying in high def. _The emotional toll will always be greater than the physical one. Please do with that what you will._

"Tch.. Do with that what you will. What the fuck does that even mean?" His eyebrows knitted together and he brushed it off, along with is towel and strode confidently in the nude to his closet.

He emerged a little while later with a light jacket a more casual pair of shoes in tow. Bra was sitting on the granite island playing on her phone when he walked into the kitchen. She seemed completely healed from their little tiff earlier so he pulled out the barstool beside her to put his shoes on.

"What are you doing?" He shoehorned his foot into the first one before stamping it on the ground to ensure it was fitted properly.

"Well I was going through my stations and I added one I think you might like. A little music on our walk might be nice." She was expecting a grunt or growl or anything to rebuke her suggestions but to her astonishment all he said was "Sure." She jumped off the counter and he grabbed his own phone before heading out the door.

He didn't really understand why she wanted to play music anyway, all she was doing was talking over it. Her classes, an upcoming soccer game, winter formal..typical stuff a seventeen year old might talk about. It suited him all the same as he couldn't really understand why anyone would want to sing about comparing themselves to a piece of candy because they stay hard for a long time. He frowned to himself thinking. _How does that even make sin-_.. His eyes widened a bit once he fully got the analogy and demanded she change the station to something less vulgar. She opted for the station she picked for him earlier.

"I think you'll like this dad. I think it's what you listened to when you were my age. Pretty good stuff actually."

"I doubt it." he said smugly, casting his eyes down to her.

"Shut up." She punched him in the arm and he gripped his shoulder, feigning hurt.

The song started slow and it initially sounded like 'Taps' playing but once the guitar intro debuted, Vegeta was taken back to the very first concert he ever went to. Jesus, he felt old.

"Well? Did I guess right?"

"No.. " He chided. "I was a few years younger than you, if you must know."

She giggled at the way he tried to sound upset but knew he wasn't really mad. Or at least she didn't think he was. It wasn't completely unpleasant hearing it after so long but something about it was making him slightly anxious.

~ _You know it's been on my mind_ ~

The more he heard, the more his stomach contents started to bubble.

~ _Could you stand right there_ ~  
~ _Look me straight in the eye and say_ ~

A wave of uneasiness fell over him, something akin to foreshadowing but nothing tangible.

~ _That's it's over now_ ~

"Change it". The command in his voice, a stark change from his previous tone, had her abandoning music all together. Silence suited him just fine anyway.

Loath as he was to admit it, walking was actually quite a decent suggestion. The changing of the leaves was a nice contrast to the deep hue of the fervently twinkling sky. Bra suggested multiples times to make a wish since there were enough stars for everyone but Vegeta maintained it didn't work that way, or at all. That wasn't likely to stop her though and he knew that. He honored her moment of silence and focused on the sound of their feet rhythmically tapping against the sidewalk until whooshing sounds and overzealous screams focused his attention exactly in the direction they were heading.

Dancing strobe lights and overly decadent smells were making him quickly rethink his decision as they walked up towards the entrance. A few posters were on display advertising some of the more popular attractions: a ghost house, a fortune teller, some sort of roller coaster called 'the nose bleed'.

"Ugh..." Vegeta said aloud as he read the last thing. He couldn't fathom what kind of people would willingly ride something asininely named The Nosebleed, but assumed it was probably the same kind who would eat something called a Jawbreaker.

The line to get in was slow. Very slow. As they approached the ticket booth a man with a thin, trimmed mustache that curled on both ends offered them a complimentary bag of popcorn for their wait. He snatched it from him with little acknowledgement and gave it to Bra who was practically giggling with excitement. Did he misunderstand the intent of their trip? Surely it was just to find Pan, make sure she was 'behaving' and leave without incidence, right? The bouncing adolescent beside him was telling a different story, one they should've gotten straight before they left. He rolled his eyes and murmured to himself before noticing a strikingly vivd poster highlighting one of the shows. He was able to quell the butterflies in his stomach upon further inspection, concluding it was just one of a similar act; one they wouldn't be around to watch.

A firm grip tugged his arm in the direction of an arched beam with ENTER HERE illuminated in flashing red and blue lights. A strong breeze whipped through Vegeta's hair as he stood under the entrance sign, nearly barreled over by fearless kids that barely came up to his knee.

Upon entering, they were welcomed by the the sights and sounds of groaning metal and shrieking passengers being spun in centrifugal motions. Stilt walkers were stretching their harlequin printed pants to their limits taking exaggerated steps over awe-struck children. Obnoxious challenges were being called out to passersby, coercing men with inadequate packages to win inane prizes for their 'lucky ladies'. He reined in his discomfort as best he could but the way his face twisted in abhorrence and confusion didn't go unnoticed.

"Dad, can you not? You have that 'I don't want to be here look'?" she complained, trying to navigate the impending crowd.

"Sorry. I was going for 'I don't want any of _you_ to be here look'." An annoying grin spread across his face at her expense.

"DAAAAD!"

"BRAAAA!"

"Stop!"

"You stop!" He raised is voice a few octaves to sound more like her.

"AHHH!" She stamped her feet and puffed her cheeks as he threw his head back and laughed.

He wiped a little moisture from the corner of his eye before resting his hand on her head and agitating her hair into a tendriled mess. "Alright, what do you want?"

The paper plate was slicked on the bottom with the same film as the pizza box. She discarded any parts not completely saturated with powdered sugar and made sure to dredge the rest on the pillowy white mounds she formed. "Hmm?"

With a mouth full of funnel cake, she lifted the plate just under his chin, offering him a sliver.

"Maybe if it was actually food" he declined, pushing the plate back towards her. The same tinge of nausea sweeping over him again briefly.

"Whatever, more for me." She stuffed the rest into her mouth and forced her dad to hold the plate while she slapped her hands together, removing anything residual. "Come on!" She gripped his hand with the same one that surely had a mix of fresh powder and saliva still caked on it and tugged him in the direction of the ghost house. "Bet your ass gets more scared than mine!"

Vegeta craned his neck around the 'S' pattern the long line had formed, grumbling to himself. He checked is phone again and before he could look up felt himself being forcibly turned in another direction.

"Hey Dad!" Bra exclaimed "Look over... uh.. there!" His eyes followed hers and trailed up the ascending ballast housing wooden slats and careening trains of screaming patrons.

"Tch.. yeah right. Find Pan for that."

"Umm.. I don't really know where she's at." she stated hurriedly " What about that?" She pointed to a ferris wheel that was lighting up in brilliant, alternating patterns. "Or that?" She tugged him into yet another direction. "Actually, the scrambler looks way more fun, let's go that way!"

"What are you doing?" His face crinkled in confusion as she grabbed the collar of his jacket. "You wanted to wait and now it's been over 20 minutes." He batted her hands away. "I'm not waiting again because you changed your mind! If you don't want to go in, you need to go find P-.."

And then there she was. Perched on her toes with her shoulders pressed into his chest, lips pursed in earnest supplication. His shaggy hair making great strides to cover part of her impending face. This... _This_... was not something he expected...or prepared for. Not from this one. She should've been on a field somewhere beating the hell out of a soccer ball before weaponizing against the other team, not doing something he was doing at that age.

He tried to pull his face away, reminding himself that this was normal and probably going on for a while now, behind his back. It did little to suppress the urge to throw her over his shoulder in a dramatic scene and leave with her beating her fists into his back. What did he think was going to happen? He even let his slip out of his own mouth earlier that this was some kind of date. Why didn't he do something about it then? What was there to even do over a kiss?

Everything around him seemed to be getting fuzzier. The backdrop of people and swirling lights was culminating into a giant blur. "Fuck" was all he mumbled to himself before the inundation of nausea hit him full force and everything went black.

A small crowd comprised of whispers and gasps began to form around a limp body, pulling Pan out of her lip lock. She snorted at the scene, not believing someone, much less a full grown man, passed out before they even entered. She left her date in an attempt to get a few jabs in but the closer she got, the more distinguishable the person's characteristics became. She started to push past the people, forcing some out of her way, before she made it to the still-in-shock blue haired girl standing over him.

Upon her arrival, Bra's wide eyes turned to her in illustrious bewilderment. "You killed him."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Well he's a bit melodramatic isn't he XD Poor Veggie, just couldn't handle your little tomboy growing up? Or maybe something else is going on? Guess we'll find out.

Did anyone catch the Netflix documentary I was talking about? If so what did you guys think of it?

Happy readings!


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